The chant of the ceremony swells beyond walls of wet stone. Your bare feet on red sand peak out of cloudy robes.Figures sway among the pillars of the stone circle. Their song spirals up towards the night sky.

The stars move in pulsating patterns and combine to form the bird of light. It swoops down from it’s celestial home to push it’s claws into the red soil, it stares into your soul before it put it’s head under it’s wing and drowns in the sand. A tiny finger cymbal echo between the pillars as the voices die down. The figures are gone, only their empty robes left behind. You stand alone under a night sky drained of stars, pure black.

Druidic chanting and deep walls of sound lends a cavernous atmosphere to Tomb of Druids.